The Rules to This New Game
by AnneWithane
Summary: He didn’t care that it meant breaking the rules. It was the right thing to do.


1.

It was dark and late, like it had been the last time they met. He shrugged his shoulders against the confining fabric of his jacket as he settled back into the driver's seat, content to be in the warm truck cab even if the feeling of "sneaking around" didn't sit easily in the pit of his stomach. He glanced about, satisfied that there was very little traffic on this stretch of I-40 this late at night. With the headlights of the black truck extinguished, he was hard to spot sitting behind the clump of bushes beneath the on-ramp, just like he liked it. He checked his watch. It shouldn't be long now.

Even though Perry would bust his ass if she found out he was here, it was worth the risk. In spite of her obvious intention to monitor his comings and goings and peer over his shoulder like an anxious mother hen, it was fairly easy to work out opportunities to meet up with Bobby. If his partner was undercover without back up, then he needed someone to keep tabs on him. Sure, the Feds were keeping tabs on him officially, but he knew that to the FBI agents in charge of the task force, Bobby was a borrowed undercover operative – a tool to be used in service to their objective. To him Bobby was more than that, a partner and a friend who deserved better than to be risking his life without any outside support. And he knew for sure that to Marissa and the kids, Bobby was a _hell_ of a lot more than just an undercover agent.

The passenger side door opened and a dark shadow slipped in beside him.

"Hey, man," he greeted, squinting his eyes a bit to make out Bobby's face through his curtain of unruly hair.

"How's it goin'?"

"Okay. How're you?"

Bobby nodded, pulling his thick hair behind his shoulders.

He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. Bobby kept all that long hair, but was fastidious about keeping it out of his way. To see it so out of control was just – funny.

"What?"

"Nothin'. I just can't get over the hair. How long does it take you to curl it every morning?"

Bobby reached over to shove his shoulder. "Man, shut up. You don't know what you're talkin' about."

"I'm just sayin'. I got three sisters and I've waited in line for the bathroom more than I care to admit while they were doin' that thing women do with curlers an' shit. And not one of 'em has ever managed curls like that."

Bobby sighed the sigh of the tired and put upon. "This is going to be a thing now, isn't it?"

He nodded, smiling broadly. "I'd start gettin' used it."

"Okay, but you remember this next time I kick your Longhorn ass."

"_Next _time? That'd mean there'd been a first time, and I don't think so."

"Yeah, well, I'm learnin' new skills on this job," Bobby said, his tone serious as he looked away toward the dark highway.

He ran a hand across his chin, rubbing the stubble underneath his bottom lip as he tried to figure out what caused the sudden evaporation of the light mood.

"How's my family?" Bobby asked quietly.

He grinned, knowing his news would make his partner smile. "Maggie got straight A's on her report card yesterday."

Bobby turned back to him, face beaming with paternal pride. "That's my girl. How 'bout everybody else?"

He thought for a minute, trying to remember exactly what Marissa had told him the last time he'd spoken with her that afternoon. "Two B's and a C, but other than that, A's all around. We're having an ice cream party this weekend to celebrate."

"Hmm, I'm not sure a C deserves ice cream, but I guess under the circumstances I'll let it slide. How's Marissa?"

"She's still pissed, but mostly she just misses you. Worried, ya'know? But okay."

"I'm fine," Bobby insisted, though his tone of voice gave his guilt away. "I'm being careful. Well, as careful as I can…"

He sat up a little straighter so he could turn more fully toward his partner. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

Bobby shrugged. "This is big. And I really can't say anything else at this point. I need you to do me a favor, though."

He nodded. "Name it."

Bobby dug into his pocket, then handed him a piece of paper with the name _Jose Escovedo_ written in Bobby's neat, concise penmanship. "Check this guy out for me and see what you can come up with. Quiet like. I've got some information about his activities south of the border, but not much on what he's been up to here. The bureau gave me some stuff, but I wanna make sure I know everything there is to know. He's been in Oklahoma two, maybe three, years."

He folded the piece of paper and tucked it into his shirt pocket. "You got it."

"Don't go getting busted. Perry's gotta be watchin' you like a hawk."

He scoffed. "That's an understatement."

He could feel more than he could see Bobby's dark eyes study his face in the dim light filtering into the cab. "How's the team? How's Ham?"

He shook his head. "Not good, man. He collapsed in the squad room last week. Doctor says it was a panic attack…stress and lack of sleep...all that stuff with Rafe. He's takin' some time off."

"Sorry to hear that. Can't say I'm surprised, though. I'll say a prayer for him."

He drew in a deep breath as the weight of all the obstacles currently stacked against him seemed to loom larger and larger. "So. Grace is pissed."

Bobby chuckled. "I'll bet she is. How are you guys handling the work load?"

"Right now we're sorta workin' together. And sorta workin' with Paco and Olsen." He couldn't keep the frustration out of his voice as the name 'Olsen' came out of his mouth. When he looked over at Bobby, his partner was smiling like the Cheshire cat.

"Aw, Butchy. You want me back, don't you?"

He leaned forward to rest both arms heavily on the steering wheel, suddenly feeling very, very tired. "You have no idea." As the grin on Bobby's face got even bigger, he 'fessed up. "I know I gave you a hard time about bein' too careful a while back, and man, I was _wrong._ Olsen can't take a piss without Perry signing off in triplicate. The man's worse than Ed Legardi. I'm talkin' _serious_ OCD territory here."

Bobby nodded in obvious satisfaction. "You just remember that the next time you decide to bust my chops."

He held up a hand in surrender. "I swear. Just get this thing the hell over with and get back in here. This is killin' me."

Bobby reached over to briefly grasp his shoulder before opening the door and hopping out into the chilly night air. "10-4, good buddy. And thanks for the laugh."

He fought the urge to flip Bobby off as he retreated into the shadows. With a vicious twist of the key the truck roared to life. Muttering under his breath, he pulled down the embankment onto the lonely stretch of interstate. "Glad I could entertain you…seein' as how I live to serve an' all." He drew in a deep breath, smiling a bit in spite of himself. "Asshole."

TBC…


End file.
